One of the first lepers to hear of my visits to the asylum was a girl, Kate Reilly, who lived in a crowded quarter of the town, and who sent for me to go and see her. The person who came with the message looked like a respectably-dressed shopkeeper, quoted several texts from Scripture, by way, I suppose, of stimulating me into going to her friend, and wound up by telling me of all that she had done for her. When I saw Kate afterwards, she told me to come again of my own accord, and not oblige her to send Mrs. ----, who always charged her cab hire when she executed any commissions for her. I experienced some difficulty in seeing Kate when I first called. The address given me by the woman who came to my house was in a lane off Chandney Choke, one of the lowest and most thickly populated of the slums of Calcutta. It is here one may see exposed for sale everything that it is possible to imagine, from a hammer and nails or a button hook, to a complete outfit for man or horse. Side by side with legs of thin miserable-looking mutton will be seen a set of harness, gaudy and cheap; saddles that make one feel sorry for the unfortunate horse or pony on whose back they will be placed; hats and bonnets trimmed with bits of satin of the most showy colours procurable; bedsteads, tobacco, sweets, padlocks, old books, and a thousand and one miscellaneous articles repose on the benches of Chandney Choke. Drunken sailors, and soldiers, in Her Majesty’s uniform, earning an honest penny by selling the Salvation Army’s _War Cry_, half-caste loafers, mulattos and “shady” characters from every quarter of the globe seem to be always prowling about there in search of money or adventure. Knowing that it would be unsafe for a lady to go alone into any of these dens, I asked a gentleman friend to accompany me, and I drove as well as I could through the crowd till we came to the lane where Kate Reilly lived. Here the road was too narrow to drive along, so we alighted from the trap and walked to the house. There was a number on it, but no door, only an archway. On entering it I was conscious of the well-remembered “faint” smell of leprosy; so knew we had arrived at the right address. We passed through the archway into a small yard in which a number of Eurasian children were playing. The yard was enclosed on all sides by houses, which were inhabited by several poor families. Kate Reilly occupied a couple of rooms on the ground floor of one on the right-hand side. As I was preparing to make for this room, the door of which was open, I was met by a native (_Mussulman_) woman, engaged in cleaning her cooking utensils. Without getting up from the ground where she was squatting, she told me that no such person as the one I mentioned lived there. On hearing my voice, Kate called out from within in English, “Oh, yes; I’m Kate Reilly, I want to see you!” The native woman then said in Hindustanee that the “Miss Baba, had no clothes on.” “I can soon put them on,” called Kate